


Simple Affection

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, Series: Alienated Affections: Episode Related, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-11
Updated: 2001-02-11
Packaged: 2018-11-11 06:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Those weren't his breasts.This story is a sequel toIt's Complicated.





	Simple Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

 

Simple Affection

Standard Disclaimer. They don't belong to me. They don't  
belong to me. . . . They're better off with me. Funny how that works.  
Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to  
or visit http://members.nbci.com/dueSou  
and http://www.learnlink.emory.edu/~sdelcul

#  Simple Affection

\--This is not my idea of a good time--  
\--Garbage, "Not my idea"

* * *

"Samantha, come on. I'm dying here. Yeah, I had somebody, but she  
fell through. Look, it's just for a couple of days, I'll pay you out  
of my own pocket. . . . . . I'll be right with you. . . . . Look, look,  
Sam, school gave you allergies because somebody was grading you. This  
time you're gonna be the one doing the grading. Thanks for nothing. Elaine!"

"I'll do the job." 

"I don't even know who you are." 

"Actually, I believe you do." 

"I'm sorry, I don't." 

"Ray, it's me." 

"Fraser?" 

* * *

He wondered if it was normal to spend a significant amount of time  
feeling out of sorts. Then again, it wasn't normal that your best friend,  
your _male_ best friend, dressed up like a woman -- and looked good,  
too. And it probably wasn't normal for your first girlfriend to be a  
nun either. When you threw in disco, a cellar full of loot and teenage  
girls, a line was crossed into weirdness. He'd taken to calling it the  
Fraser zone.

* * *

"You're not going to fool anyone in drag."

"Well, I fooled you, Ray." 

"Ah, this is crazy. I know I'm in a bind and I need some help, but this is going too far." 

"Well, I'm sure if the situation were reversed you'd do exactly the same for me." 

"Not in a million years." 

"Really?" 

"I'd never be caught dead in drag." 

"Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of, Ray. In fact, certain tribes in the northwest - Tlingit believe a man should experience life as a woman in order to be a better husband-" 

"All right, all right. Okay, but it's only because I'm in a bind. Now, I'll run it by Sister Ann and if she says it's okay, then we'll do it, but if anyone gets wise, it just wasn't my idea. Do you understand?" 

"Understood. Oh, one other question. Do you think teal is my color, or should I lean towards mustard?" 

"Who cares?" 

"Well, I do." 

* * *

Teal?  Mustard?  What the hell happened to simple color  
names like blue and yellow?  What kind of color is 'mustard' anyway?

* * *

"Fraser."

"Hm humm?" 

"Aw, you're not even listening. What are you doing back there?" 

"Well, I'm changing and I'm reading Celine's diary. Listen. 'The scent of pungent flowers drifted into the crypt like gossamer lace as my love took me into his powerful arms and made love to me.'" 

"The girl's a poet." 

"Hm humm." 

"What is going on back there?" 

"Well, let me tell you something, Ray, I think that the person who invented panty hose should be brought up on charges of cruelty, sadism and reckless endangerment. They pinch in the most inappropriate places." 

"Yeah, well, most people who wear em don't have those places, Benny." 

"Another run." 

"What else does the diary say?" 

"Um. 'Cries of ecstasy burst from me as the fire had branded the depths of my soul with a love that could never be quenched. I gifted him with a treasure of gold and time and he gifted me with his love.'" 

"I'm no English major, but that stuff is so purple I'm getting diabetes." 

"You just mixed a metaphor, Ray." 

"Yeah, well, I said I was no English major. Well, it sounds like to me if we find the guy with the powerful arms, the unquenchable fire, that's the guy who has her." 

"Well, yes, I think you're right." 

"Now, did she say anything else about the guy, like height, weight, hair color, distinguishable marks, that sort of thing?" 

"Ray, it's a diary, it's not a police report. However, I did notice that the handyman, Todd, was wearing a watch-- and not just any ordinary watch, Ray, it was a vintage 1930 Automeris-piquet, moon phase chronometer in 18-karat gold. Only 100 were made." 

"Yeah, she gifted her lover with time and gold." 

"Precisely." 

"All right, I'll go check out this Todd guy while you make out your report." 

"Right." 

"Oh, and Benny, before I drop you off?" 

"Uh huh?" 

* * *

What were the signs of mental illness?  Because one of them  
was certainly crazy, and he was beginning to think it might not be Fraser.  
After all, he was Canadian.

* * *

"Excuse me, would it trouble you too much if I had a look at that  
flask?"

"Oh, I see you have a taste for art deco. Now this is a very fine piece. From the early 20's. I just got it in. Well, are you going to buy it or what?" 

"No.  . . .  Ray." 

"I'm sorry, I can't take her anywhere. If you should see her again, please call me. . . . . What? You can't get it yourself?" 

"What were you doing?" 

"I recognize the spores on the flask, Ray. It comes from the same fungus I found on the bottom of Celine's shoes." 

"Which means?" 

"Which means that she found the flask somewhere on the grounds of the school, snuck it out and came here to sell it." 

"So she's moving the stuff out of the school." 

"It would appear so. And that's not all. There was a name engraved on the bottom of the flask. Frank Nitti." 

"Ah, Al Capone's right hand man. Frank Nitti's flask, Elliot Ness' gun. What is this? A garage sale for the Untouchables?" 

"Well, if we can establish-Ray! Manners." 

"Ya know Benny, there's a limit." 

"A limit to good etiquette? I think not, Ray." 

"Just get in the car before I beat you with your purse." 

* * *

What was that quote that Huey had on his last email?  Oh yeah:   
"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is  
suffering from some form of mental illness.  Think of your three  
best friends.  If they are OK, then it's you." --Rita Mae Brown.   
Let's see, that leaves either me or Fraser: I put up with him; it's gotta  
be me.

* * *

"Care to dance, Ms. Fraser?"

"Uh, no. Thank you, thank you. I'm just here as an observer." 

"Get down already. You can really move for a big woman. . . .  I like big women. More of a good thing, you know." 

"I'm cutting in, Jack." 

"We're not finished." 

"Take a hike." 

"Thank you." 

"You owe me." 

"For what?" 

"For saving you from dancing with a guy." 

"Well, it would appear that I am still dancing with a guy." 

"Right. So Ness' gun." 

"Keep going or we won't be able to talk." 

"Who still does disco?" 

"The St. Fortunata School, apparently." 

"That Ness' gun?" 

"Hm humm." 

"And Nitti's flask." 

"Hm humm." 

"It all comes from back in '31 on the school grounds." 

"Where on the grounds?" 

"Well, that's what no one's known for the last 60 years. Until Celine and Todd found it. They know." 

"Ah, well, Melissa didn't say anything about this. Which makes me wonder what other things she's kept secret. . . .  Sorry, she's gone." 

* * *

What was he doing, and when had this become his life?  His boss  
certainly thought him strange, as did his co-workers, his partner licked  
everything in sight, and he let a deaf wolf shed all over his suits.   
As if that wasn't bad enough, his partner was now a transvestite!

Ray was a man of the world. He was a cop in the city of Chicago. He'd seen transvestites before. He'd arrested transvestites before. He'd never partnered with one before. 

* * *

"How do you know they're in here?"

"Fungus, Ray." 

"Of course. Sounds like they're this way." 

"Then I suggest we go this way." 

"Do I dare ask for an explanation or I just take your word for it?" 

"Well, it's similar to the Doppler effect, Ray, wherein the echoes bounce off the walls of the corridor and the pitch of the sound waves changes and amplifies..." 

"I'll take your word for it." 

"Very good." 

* * *

Fungus.  Physics.  Yuck.  Why was he doing this again?   
Come on now, physics?  He'd hated physics in high school.   
Damn variables never stood for the same thing, even in the same equation!

* * *

  
 

"You ready?" 

"Yes." 

"You know, Benny, you weren't a bad-looking woman." 

"Thank you, Ray." 

"Of course, you weren't exactly my type, either." 

"What exactly is your type, Ray?" 

'Well, I like a woman who is kind and honest and has a good sense of humor." 

"Well, I don't have those qualities?" 

"No, no, you do, I just like a woman who's, you know, a woman." 

"Well, that's -- that's just picky, Ray." 

"Ah, don't get in a snit." 

"Well, I'm not." 

"Well, good." 

"Well, fine." 

"So, what you are doing after work?" 

"Nothing with you." 

"You are soooo sensitive." 

* * *

If only . . .


End file.
